Shadows
by Blaise-666
Summary: The dark side won the war. Draco is all power and Hermione is one of the only survivors. DMHG
1. Default Chapter

Weasley's little sister.  
  
I started towards her. She took a step backwards.  
  
Her wand was long lost. For her, there simply was no hope.  
  
The sky was dark. Grey clouds covered the sun, threatening rain.  
  
In the background, screams of the tortured could be heard. Blood curdling screams—the kind that sends shivers down your spine and cause the hair on the back of your neck to stand on end.  
  
I continued forward until I had my victim backed up against a tree.  
  
With a face full of fear and disgust, she spat on me.  
  
Wiping the saliva off my cheek with my sleeve, I sneered.  
  
The wind whistled, blowing violent gusts and then milder ones. I felt the first signs of rain drop onto my head.  
  
I looked at the girl in front of me. She glared right back. I bent down in front of her to wipe a smudge of dirt off of her nose. She turned her head away, but not before my cold fingers touched her delicate skin.  
  
I tucked a strand of her red hair behind her ear.  
  
What a shame to kill something so beautiful, I thought with no remorse.  
  
She froze, looking at me with frightened, brown eyes. I couldn't hold myself back. I bent even closer, capturing her lips with mine...a soft, gentle kiss. She didn't respond—she didn't do anything. She just sat there, up against that tree, helpless and motionless.  
  
Not able to handle it anymore, I quickly jerked back.  
  
I stood up, pulled out my wand, and pointed it down at her. She looked up at me and whimpered. Her eyes were like those of a wounded animal; big, dark with terror, and forever accusing. We both knew what was to happen next.  
  
I looked at her, my face emotionless.  
  
Virginia Weasley was not the first to die at my hands, and certainly was not going to be the last.  
  
"Avada Kedavra," I whispered.  
  
And that was all it took. A green flash of light jetted out from my wand. It hit the girl directly in the center of her chest.  
  
The green light kept connected to her, as a green aura surrounded her body. Her eyes glazed over before they were filled with blood...blood that covered even the white corners of her eyes.  
  
She slumped over, and the green light suddenly disappeared, as well as the aura that had surrounded her body.  
  
The wind was now howling in my ears, making me unable to hear the other battling wizards and witches.  
  
I kneeled next to the limp body, and kissed her cheek. Something I did to all of my female victims. It was my way of somehow finalizing their death.  
  
I closed her eyes, letting two tears of blood trail down her face.  
  
I sighed and stood up.  
  
I turned my face towards the wind and closed my eyes. As the wind whipped my pale, blonde hair around, I inhaled deeply through my nose.  
  
Death has a scent. It's not a distinct smell because you can't really describe it. It reminded me of the smell of springtime. Both left a sort of muskiness in the air.  
  
But the smell of spring did not leave a metallic taste in your mouth...the taste of blood...the taste of death.  
  
"Draco," Lucius called to me. I do not acknowledge him as my father anymore...that man is dead to me.  
  
I followed the sound of his voice and found him not too far away. He was standing in the open grounds of what was once Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I had just been on the edge the Forbidden Forest.  
  
That was where the battle had been taking place. Thousands of dueling wizards had died trying to protect a world they held so dear. Thousands of Death Eaters had triumphed in this war...killing innocent magical and Muggle people alike.  
  
For three long, grueling days, the battle had gone on. Now the grounds were filled with bodies, blood, and other remnants of battles that had gone on.  
  
The Headmaster—Dumbledore—had been long dead. He was the first to die in the surprise attack.  
  
We had been planning, scheming, and plotting for months, now. Finally all of that had paid off. Three days ago, craftily schemed plans had been pulled off perfectly.  
  
I, of course, was still in school—seventh year Head Boy. Though it happened a few days ago, it seems like years.  
  
***  
  
"Draco," Crabbe addressed me at breakfast. "When will they strike? I thought that they would have done so already."  
  
Of course only Crabbe would be that thick headed to talk about that so openly.  
  
"Not here," I hissed.  
  
At that moment, hundreds of owls swooped down, delivering the post to the many waiting students. The family owl, Zeus, swooped down and landed in front of me on the table. Zeus was a noble looking owl, with coal black feathers and bright, yellow eyes.  
  
He stared at me pointedly and raised a leg which a letter was attached to. I took the letter, fed Zeus a piece of toast, and he was on his way.  
  
Before I had a chance to read the letter, another owl landed in front of me. Attached to the owls' leg was a copy of that morning's Daily Prophet. I dropped the appropriate amount of change in the money pouch, took the newspaper, and sent the owl off.  
  
Looking down at the Daily Prophet, I began reading the front page.  
  
An Attack Strikes at the Ministry!  
  
Scanning the headline, I looked down at the picture. It was of dueling Ministry officials and Death Eaters. A few Death Eaters fell dead to the ground, but more officials were killed.  
  
Death Eaters have attacked the ministry. The victims of the attack are  
named page five.  
Aurors were able to apprehend a few unconscious Death Eaters. We are most aggrieved to report that most of the Death Eaters have escaped.  
  
The death toll of Ministry officials that were attacked has risen above  
forty. If you have any information that could lead to the arrest of these Death  
Eaters, please contact the Ministry of Magic. -- Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge  
  
I looked up, glancing around at my fellow Slytherins. The ones in my year were Junior Death Eaters—as was I. Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Vincent Crabbe, and Greggory Goyle were some, just to name a few. I gave a curt nod, gathered my things, and stalked out of the Great Hall. They knew to follow me in trickling pairs outside to the Quidditch Field, since that was the one place no one would beat this time of day. We needed to discuss our plans...the first strike was our signal to follow our Fathers' leads.  
  
The War had begun.  
  
*** I walked up to Lucius, giving him a nod. At his feet lay two of my former professors. It did not bother me...I was numb to feeling anything.  
  
"Draco," he acknowledged me.  
  
"You called, Lucius," I replied.  
  
"Yes, yes I did. Our Lord is pleased with this outcome," Lucius hissed, making a sweeping gesture over the grounds. I knew what he meant...Voldemort was pleased that we had killed so many. He was happy—as close to happy as an evil being could get—that we had won.  
  
We won.  
  
The thought registered in my head. I hadn't thought of it that way...until just now.  
  
"Our Lord wishes to speak with you. It seems that you have proven yourself worthy in his eyes. I want you to gather the rest of the Junior Death Eaters and meet us in," he smirked, "the Great Hall."  
  
He turned on his heel and stalked off, leaving me by myself. I looked up and, as if fate, rain started pouring down. I was soon drenched by the cold water—I shivered. My white shirt was now transparent, water dripping off me like a wet dog and a foot of my robe was covered in mud and soaked at the bottom.  
  
I knew where Crabbe and Goyle were...I had passed their snoring bodies laying on the forest floor a few hours back. Zabini and Pansy were still battling some Gryffindors who had, of course, refused to give up.  
  
Speaking of which, I wondered what happened to Potter, Weasley, and that mudblood Granger. The Dark Lord had most likely taken Potter for himself, and obviously, beat him, too. But what of his little....assistants?  
  
I pulled out my wand and apparated to the Great Hall. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two  
  
Three years later Draco sat in a high-backed chair facing the enormous fireplace in his bedroom drinking a brandy.  
  
He had come far over the years. Although his father is now dead, it was all worth it to him. The money, the mansions, the women, and not to mention, being only second to that sorry excuse for a human being better known as Voldemort.  
  
Voldemort was now a hollowed out soul there only for decoration. Apart from the rare orders he made, Draco pretty much ran the show. He was their leader now. Voldemort couldn't even make it to the meetings anymore.  
  
The Death Eater Population had grown so much over the years that they could not just form a circle in a field and talk about their forth coming plans. So Draco had bought a mansion off the coast of Rithen just for the cause.  
  
Draco had collected a team of the best wizards of the time who helped the dark side to cast spell after spell of secrecy on the mansion. This way, it was impossible to find on accident, and not even a highly trained wizard could not find it with a wand. In more ways than one, it was much more protected than Hogwarts and held things far more valuable.  
  
The house was spacious and very well decorated. Many parties were held there and it was also a refuge of sorts for the Death Eaters. Muggles were often brought there to be tortured or "played with", as some of them liked to say.  
  
Draco heard a knock at the door.  
  
Avice again...Draco thought angrily. He knew it would be his servant because he was the only one allowed to come to his private chambers when called upon or to deliver something.  
  
"Enter Avice," his ghost butler floated into the room with his dull face and rather boring demeanor. He died in about 1402 and of course was still in his Renaissance attire.  
  
"Sir, Mr. Gregory Goyle has come to see you."  
  
"What business brings him here?" Draco asked.  
  
There were some people whom Draco wanted to speak to as little as possible. For time's sake and the sake of his temper. Often he just had Avice state their business and have them on their way. This was usually the case with Goyle.  
  
"He says that the Dark Lord wishes to speak with you, sir."  
  
"Know you the reason?" Draco asked in his ever quiet voice.  
  
A man with power has no reason to speak loudly, son. A loud voice shows signs of weakness and despair.  
  
"No, sir, my apologies." Avice replied carefully. He knew that his master did not like being let down on these sort of things.  
  
"Very well. You may leave."  
  
At the moment Draco was in no mood to speak to that moving pile of blubber, so he pulled out his wand and apparated to Voldemort's manner—or better off, hospice, he thought.  
  
***  
  
Draco walked down a hallway and stopped in front of a large wooden door. The two guards knew to let him in. After all, it was he who put them there.  
  
One of them opened the door and Draco stepped into an overly-warm room to find the legendary Voldemort, now just a small snake-like house elf looking thing lying on a large bed underneath layers and layers of coverings. One could barely tell he was there at all.  
  
Draco strode over to the bed and looked down at the helpless creature. One day he would kill him. Just not yet. Draco had started his rise to power only a couple of years ago and it would be rather suspicious for the only person standing, or rather, lying, in his way to becoming the number one man died all of a sudden.  
  
"Draco..." the creature hissed in a raspy tone.  
  
"My Lord, I have come to serve you."  
  
"I have had a vision. The girl....Potter's mudblood friend. Do you remember her name?"  
  
Hermione Granger. Draco's body clenched in disgust at the name.  
  
"Hermione Granger, My Lord," he replied without feeling.  
  
"Yes, that girl. She is alive."  
  
Alive, thought Draco, How can she be alive? There weren't supposed to be any survivors from their side after the war. No, it's impossible. The old lunatic doesn't know what he's talking about.  
  
"Bring her to me, unharmed and untouched. She should be living somewhere by the sea."  
  
"Yes, My Lord." Draco replied. And if he didn't find her...?  
  
There was a pause. Voldemort closed his serpent-like eyes and sunk into the many pillows under his head. Draco took this as a sign to leave.  
  
He was about to turn towards the door.  
  
"Draco."  
  
"Yes My Lord?"  
  
"Be careful with her. She's far more precious than you may think."  
  
"Yes My Lord."  
  
Draco gave a curt nod and turned to leave again.  
  
"Oh and Draco..."  
  
Draco gave a mental sigh. This time, he did not turn however, but waited for his "Lord" to continue.  
  
"Don't disappoint me."  
  
So he hasn't lost all his sharpness, he thought. Without another word or even a glance, Draco quickly strode out of the room.  
  
***  
  
"I've found out where she may be. The only thing left for you two to do is go and find her and bring her back to me. Do you understand?"  
  
Draco sat in his overly large study trying to teach Crabbe and Goyle their next assignments. Trying.  
  
Goyle was first to speak.  
  
"So, she's in this town...uh...what's it called....uh, Camden? And we have to go get her and stuff without touching her? So, should we where gloves?"  
  
"No..." Draco was like a storm before it hits. Cool, collected and very quiet. "You are to go find Hermione Granger who now lives in the beachside town of Camden and bring her to the house we are in now, to me, without hurting her in any way, shape or form. Can you do that Goyle? Crabbe?"  
  
They both nodded dumbly with their eyebrows drawn together in a determined, yet confused, fashion which is most common in young toddlers. "Go." Draco said simply and looked back down at a stack of papers he was reading .  
  
They stood there, literally, like rocks.  
  
Draco looked up at them expectantly.  
  
"What?" asked Crabbe.  
  
Draco silently fumed.  
  
"I'm going to get my wand now. If I come back and find both of you still here I will Avada Kedavra the two of you straight back to hell."  
  
The two goons turned and quickly scurried out of the room.  
  
Draco did not care at all whether they did the job well or not. He knew Granger wasn't still alive anyhow. She couldn't be. It was impossible.  
  
Draco went back to his work. 


End file.
